


The Only Enemy

by Leyenn



Series: Dreams of Honest Horn [6]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e04 The Last Outpost, F/M, Huddling For Warmth, Imzadi, Self Confidence Issues, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, oh my god so canon compliant it's insane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-24 00:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12001332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: The Last Outpost.Empathy can be as frustrating as it is helpful when everything out there is so unknown.





	The Only Enemy

Will drops into his chair as the Ferengi weapon hits: she knows he'll be immediately pulling up status reports on the ship and she does the same on the crew, checking the alerts already in place for casualties. Thankfully there's nothing reported, but she's well aware of how easily that can change. 

The moment they're inexplicably gaining on a ship of unknown technology without shields or weapons, she presses the call for general quarters below decks and turns her attention to that ship. Will crosses back to the Captain and she follows him up, fixing her gaze on the vessel filling the view screen.

The double hull is sickle-shaped, rust-colored: reminds her of nothing so much as the giant fossilised sea crabs of Betazed's ancient oceans. But inside…

Will shoots her a glance while Picard is behind them. _Deanna?_

_I don't know. Give me a minute._

He does, without another word, but it doesn’t help. She tunes out everything else on the bridge, everyone around her, pushing her senses out, out-

"Counselor?"

The Captain's voice breaks her concentration; she shakes her head helplessly.

"I'm sensing nothing from them, sir. Which could mean they can shield their thoughts and emotions from others."

Picard looks, and feels, as dissatisfied with that answer as she is. "Still makes it our move."

She wishes she knew what to say. "Sir, they may know as little about us as we know about them."

"Except that they know they've got us." Will's discomfort and concern are clear; he's always had a way of projecting his emotions even in the calmest tone. "And in deep trouble."

Picard acknowledges that, too, with a nod. "If so, then the question becomes what do they do with that knowledge."

Will's concerned gaze locks onto hers. _You're not getting_ any _thing?_

She won't glare at him openly on the bridge, but that won't stop her in his head. _I wouldn't have said I wasn't otherwise._

Apology opens up in his mind and he puts a hand on her arm, just for a moment. _Sorry. I know, it's just…_

_I know._ He doesn't have to say that he doesn't like _any_ of this, least of all not having the backup of her read on the enemy.

 

*

 

"I wish I knew what they were thinking over there," Picard says, and even though it's just a turn of phrase, Will winces in his head and wishes he didn't know Deanna can hear.

 

*

 

She's watching every record in their database scroll across her screen, and something just doesn't _feel right_.

"Captain." He looks up at the sound of her voice. "If I may recommend. With our attention on the Ferengi vessel, we have ignored the planet."

Even though Picard orders immediate scans of the world spinning below, she can tell he doesn't quite take her meaning. She wishes she had more than a nebulous feeling to try and explain better. This whole situation just frustrates her empathic senses, like everything that should be clear and easy is turned to smoke she can't get a solid grip on.

 

*

 

"Let's _talk_ to them," Deanna says, in that calm and clear tone that gives absolutely no tell of the faint roughness of frustration he can feel just under the surface.

The Captain shakes his head. "It's been tried. No response."

"But did we tell them anything they wanted to hear?" she counters, just as calm and firm, and he can't help a burst of pride when Picard actually smiles, almost ruefully, and nods in agreement.

 

*

 

"What do you think he's going to do?"

"I don't know." She's tapping her fingers on her knee, subtle but enough for him to notice. "He's too focused when he's thinking like this. I can't read him well enough yet."

"He should listen to you."

Deanna smiles faintly. "I hope so."

_I mean it._ He says it silently because that frustration is still rough where her mind touches his, and he needs her to feel his confidence in her even if she's struggling with her own.

 

*

 

The _Enterprise_ isn't so big that she can't pick up on Will's mind anywhere, but when he's only a room away his sudden burst of amusement is even brighter, and so unexpected that she finds herself smothering a smile of her own in the middle of the bridge.

_What's so funny?_

_You wouldn't believe it. But I've got a great gift for you to send home the next time you write._

At least the momentary amusement distracts her from the ghostly feeling of staring at a ship full of empty minds, and a planet that feels just as dead even as it holds them all captive.

 

*

 

She should know better than to expect that Will wouldn't notice she's still preoccupied, even at a time like this.

"Deanna. What is it?" He asks it softly, resting one hand on the back of her chair for just a moment. "You okay?"

"I'll be fine." She looks up at him. _It's just odd. All of this. I can see the ship, but it's like the crew are just… hollow._

_You never needed empathy to sense what someone's up to._ He straightens up. _I don't trust them. Watch this Taar and tell me if I'm right?_

Of course he's right, on both counts, and she has no hesitation in confirming Taar's untrustworthiness to Picard even if the Ferengi is still an utter blank to her mind.

 

*

 

Seven hours.

She's _cold_. Her shields are as tight as she can make them, and she's buried her burning guilt that at least, people slowly freezing to death have sleepier, quieter minds than those dying of plague. She can still touch her faint connection to Will, down on the planet, but even that is getting fuzzy as her body tries to shut down. At least she's not focused on the Ferengi any more: there's even less she can do to help now than there has been since they arrived at this planet, so she curls up in the chair and thinks about home, bright hot sunlight and tree bark under her palms -

"Deanna."

She starts at the hand on her shoulder, and Beverly quickly pulls it back. "Sorry, I didn't mean - if I shouldn't -"

She offers as much of a smile as she can. "No, it's fine. I was just… thinking."

"Here." Beverly drapes an emergency blanket around her shoulders. "You didn't take one for yourself."

She tries to shrug it off. "I'm okay, really."

"You forget I'm a medical doctor." Beverly's hands are suddenly firm on her shoulders, pressing the blanket on her. "I know what your body temperature should be. I'm amazed you're still walking around."

"Mind over matter," she says, remembering how Will used to phrase it. Beverly smiles.

"I don't doubt it. I've heard a few things about Betazoid mental discipline, too." She unfurls a corner of the blanket and tucks it over Deanna's knees. "You'll still do better trying to stay warm."

Deanna smiles and burrows her hands into the fabric. "Thank you."

She gives the blanket to a mother and child on her way back up to the bridge, but Beverly's gesture keeps at least a flicker of warmth alive inside her.

 

*

 

He doesn't realise what's happening at first, because he doesn't feel a thing. He's not used to that any more. Whenever Deanna reads his mind he can feel it, even if most of the time he finds it utterly impossible to describe. Sure, he could never usually tell when any other Betazoid got into his head, but that's a distant memory compared with the renewed daily familiarity of her mind against his.

Portal, on the other hand, is halfway through the challenge before he even realises there's telepathy involved.

Maybe because it's not telepathy, exactly - Portal is a machine, after all, even one powered by an entire planet and so far advanced they can't begin to imagine how. No one in the Federation has ever really cracked artificial telepathy in a significant way, much as it's been tried, but it's an accepted theory that a machine _could_ read someone's mind just the way a real telepath can, if it could just be taught how to interpret the mess of a biological mind.

Materialising back on the _Enterprise_ and reaching to reassure himself of Deanna's presence, Will's happy enough to leave the secrets of that to sleep with Portal.

 

*

 

Will catches her as she leaves the bridge at the end of the shift, ducking into the turbolift behind her just before the doors close. When she turns around - she doesn't have to look back to know it's him, after all - he's still toying with one of Data's finger puzzles as if he's forgotten he's holding it, and she can't help but smile.

"That's good to see." He steps in close to her, and she doesn't have to be an empath to know why. "You okay?"

She could lie. Say she's just tired, just having an off day, just needs a good night's sleep.

"I'm still cold," she says instead, and without hesitating, Will takes another step and puts his arms around her. He's always been slightly cooler to the touch than a Betazoid, but the fact that it's him almost makes up for that, even to the part of her that's still feeling that painful chill.

"Beverly wasn't sure she should touch me," she finds herself saying, resting her head on his chest. His momentary confusion is even more warming, before he leans back enough to look at her.

"Was she looking for points on your ears, too?"

She rolls her eyes and gives him a playful shove. He grins, presses his lips against her hair. "Well, don't think I'm ever going to make that mistake." Not that she ever would; Will knows more about how to deal normally with Betazoids than she has any right to expect. "You know, they say skin to skin contact is the best way to share body heat."

It should, and does, sound like something that brash young Lieutenant Riker would have said, except that his tone is light and he's making it openly clear in his mind that it's an honest offer - one she'd be lying if she said isn't appreciated, even if it isn't needed.

She can feel his understanding at her answer before she even replies, and she leans back to look up at him. "Will-"

"Your choice." His answer is as easy as the offer. "So what else is wrong?"

She knows she's tired when she nearly asks how he knew. She sighs and rests back against him. Just because she doesn't need what he's offered, doesn't mean she won't indulge what he's already giving.

"I just feel like I was… useless, throughout this whole thing."

"Because you couldn't read Portal or our new friends out there?" He raises his eyebrows and she can feel his bemusement. "You're more than a sensor net, you know. Besides," he steps back as the lift slows to a stop and takes her hand instead. "Telling us what's going on out there isn't even half your job. It's what's going on in here that you keep a handle on."

"The Captain was never going to attack them unprovoked."

"Maybe. Maybe he wouldn't have talked to them quite the right way, either."

She smiles, allowing that. "Maybe so."

"Don't sell yourself so short." His door opens as they approach, and he stops. "Well. If you're sure…"

She reaches up to cup his face in her palm. "Thank you."

"Make sure you crank the heat up in your quarters. And order the biggest hot chocolate in the replicator." He says it lightly, but presses the image with gentle force into her mind. "That's an order."

Hand still resting on his cheek, she stretches up and presses the briefest of kisses to his lips. "Thank you, _Commander_."

 

**

**Author's Note:**

> The reference to plague victims is to the Styrus mission between episodes. There is an interlude coming but I got this one finished first.


End file.
